I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face.
When I lifted my head, a pathetic young woman stared back at me. Pale skin, cracked lips, and a small scratch marking my chin.
I despised the woman in the mirror. I despised myself. If I could, I’d strike her. I’d tear at myself. I loathed everything about her.
It lasted only a split second – a moment of lost control – but I suddenly drove my fist into the mirror as hard as I could.
The glass didn’t shatter, but it spider-webbed with cracks, and I’d destroyed my hand.
Blood poured into the sink. The red was almost beautiful, and for a moment I felt disconnected from reality, not even registering what I’d done until pain cut through the adrenaline rush.
I stared at my mangled hand and winced. I hadn’t meant to do this – I didn’t want to hurt myself – and now I was in serious trouble.
Without healing abilities, my only option was finding the healer.
I remembered the route to the infirmary, but blood kept streaming from the wound.
“Damn…” I pressed my uninjured hand against the cuts, cradling the damaged one against my stomach, then bolted from the bedroom.
Blood dripped behind me as I ran. The few people I passed looked shocked and tried asking questions, but I didn’t slow down.
I worried about the mess I was leaving behind. Deep down, I knew this would get me in trouble.
When I reached the infirmary, thank God Helen was there. She gasped when she saw me.
“What happened?! What’s wrong?” Helen immediately guided me to sit down.
“I’ll clean up the blood trail later,” I said, extending my hand for her to examine.
“Don’t worry about that! That’s not your concern. What did you do to your hand?”
I flinched when Helen’s voice rose – she wasn’t trying to yell, but the healer didn’t notice my reaction as she focused on stopping the bleeding and cleaning the wound.
“What happened?”
“I accidentally punched a mirror.”
Phoebe’s POV
“Accidentally hit a mirror?” Helen lifted her gaze toward me. What kind of explanation was that? But she didn’t press the issue further while treating my wound.
During the healing process, she seemed to notice something. She couldn’t sense my wolf spirit.
“My lady, this might sound intrusive, but could you tell me why I can’t feel your wolf spirit?” Helen chose her words with care.
I pressed my lips together. My first instinct was to keep quiet, and Helen seemed to sense this, choosing not to push. But then I reconsidered and gave her the condensed version.
“A shifter’s first transformation is an extremely delicate time.” Helen’s expression softened with understanding. “I’m sorry you had to endure that.”
“Don’t be.” I couldn’t stand her pity – it made me squirm – so I looked away.
We sat in silence after that, until she finished with my wound and wrapped my hand in tight bandages. The healer instructed me to keep the wound dry and return tomorrow for a fresh dressing.
“Or would you prefer I come to your room, my lady?” Helen offered.
“No, that’s fine. I’ll come here.” I needed to get out and move around anyway. “I should clean up the blood.”
I got to my feet, ready to ask where I could find something to wipe up the blood from the floor. My blood had left a trail from my bedroom all the way here.
“No need for that, my lady. An omega will handle it.” Helen waved me off. She then tried to shift my attention to the issue with my taste. “I’d like to help you with that problem.”
“It’s unnecessary. I’m managing fine.” I really didn’t care whether I could taste food anymore. I ate because I had to. Flavor was irrelevant. “Don’t trouble yourself.”
“Of course I need to address it.” Helen summoned one of the omegas to clean the blood in the infirmary, while other omegas had already dealt with the mess in the hallway when they spotted it. “Come here, lie down. I need to examine you.”
I resisted, but Helen was persistent. She refused to let me leave without a proper checkup, leaving me no choice.
***
Perry’s POV
“I still can’t handle watching this. How do you manage it?”
Flynn turned pale, on the verge of retching as he watched me feed our wolves with human flesh.
“Why shouldn’t I?” I laughed darkly. I rinsed my bloodied hands under the flowing water, then glanced at Flynn with amusement flickering in my eyes.
We stood in the forest behind the palace, where we kept hundreds of wolves. These were wild beasts from the mountains that formed the border between our kingdom and Valerium.
Our warriors couldn’t cross those mountains – the terrain made passage impossible, not to mention the hundreds of wild wolves that would tear them apart.
These wolves obeyed only me, and often – more often than not – I fed them human flesh.
Yes, I fed them the flesh of traitors, those who defied me, or anyone I marked for death.
Recently, we’d uncovered several names within our own ranks.
People working for the Valerium kingdom.
Their fate was sealed.
Even in death, they couldn’t remain whole, as hundreds of wolves devoured what was left of them.
“You need to dial it back. People are getting nervous about your violent streak. It doesn’t help that you’re at war with another kingdom.”
“I’m going to unite all the kingdoms. The supreme werewolf kingdom.” I headed toward the royal palace with Flynn trailing behind.
“No, you don’t want unity. You just want war so you can unleash your violence.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I arched an eyebrow at my royal beta. “At least I don’t kill my own people for sport.”
“Perry!” Flynn was at a loss. He’d had this conversation with me countless times. Repeating it would just be going in circles with the same result.
Today, I seemed in better spirits, probably because I’d gotten to feed my wolves in this forest. That explained my mood.
But once we reached the palace, I caught the scent of blood. Not just any blood. I recognized that particular smell, and my expression darkened.
“What is it?” Flynn asked, sensing the shift in my demeanor. He couldn’t detect what was wrong – couldn’t even smell blood in the air, let alone identify it as Phoebe’s.
Flynn jogged behind me as I rushed toward the queen’s bedroom, finding it empty.
The blood scent grew stronger as I entered the room.
The omegas had cleaned the blood from the corridor, but no one had entered the queen’s bedroom, so the scene remained exactly as Phoebe had left it.
The shattered mirror in the bathroom and the trail of blood leading from there to the door.
The sight of blood didn’t typically bother me – I was intimately familiar with the substance. Hell, I’d just been bathed in it while killing those traitors in my ranks.
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